Chapter 2

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"Let go of me!" I yelled.

He dragged me by the hand, leading me to a metal door against the cement wall.

I didn't want to know what was behind it.

The door opened as we neared it. A cold breeze blew past me as we made our way through.

He kept walking, taking long strides. "Stop!" I protested to no avail.

We were pacing through a long dark hallway. Finally, he stopped by a wooden cracked old door.

He didn't turn to face me, but I could feel the smile and excitement flow through him.

I caught up with my breathing, quieting down, and it was then that I heard it— the muffled crying of a person.

The more I listened, the more my heart ached. I felt the power that had dragged my body down here disappear, but I didn't need it anymore to force me into walking besides Dante.

I took those fast strides on my own, passing Dante, and stepping into the dark room.

It reminded me of the room we were in before, only this one was colder and much smaller.

In the center, I found the person behind the small sobs. It was a woman, strapped to a surgical table. Her mouth was gagged, her makeup was smeared all over her face from crying, and her blonde locks were a mess around her face.

"Ready, darling?" Dante asked, smiling in my direction as he approached the sobbing woman.

He pulled out a small tray with all sorts of horrific knives and instruments.

I stared at him horrified. The woman started to cry even louder behind the cloth.

"For what?!" I demanded through clenched teeth.

He gave me a boyish smirk. Again that giddiness returned to his eyes.

"You're going to help me kill her." He exclaimed, deadpan.

Was he serious? He expected me to be an accomplice to his sick sport.

"Screw you!" I yelled.

I charged to the girl on the table, pulling at the cuffs on her arms.

Just as I was about to unbuckle one, a swift wind brushed past me and the girl was screaming bloody murder.

Over and over her screams pierced my ears. All I could do was look at the screwdriver Dante had stabbed in her forearm.

My hands were clasped to my mouth to prevent me from screaming as well.

I turned to Dante who had a grin on his face.

"If you don't help me kill her, I will, and I'll make you watch. Oh, and I'll make sure it's the slowest, most painful death she will experience."

"You're disgusting." I spat. "What on earth is wrong with you?"

"With me?" He smiled madly. "What on earth is wrong with your kind?" He stepped closer to me. "Why don't we ask her why she's here, huh? You might enjoy the answer more than me." His ruby red eyes filled with wickedness.

"Are you saying she deserves this?" I felt sick to my stomach.

"Well, for the record," he glanced back at the woman. "That may be her blood staining her shirt, but the one on her hands..." he smiled, "That's not mine, hers, or yours."

I glanced at her bloody red fists. Regardless of how she got that, she didn't deserve to be tied and tortured. "You're mad."

"You haven't seen anything yet, darling."

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